


Maybe Just Half A Drink More

by lindsey_grissom



Series: Downton At Christmas [3]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Baby it’s cold outside, F/M, Written mid-series 5, so some spoilers and some things that worked out very differently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 11:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14933153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindsey_grissom/pseuds/lindsey_grissom
Summary: Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes share dinner, presents and something more after her retirement.





	Maybe Just Half A Drink More

He has made it a point to visit her as often as he is able since her retirement. He claims to Beryl Mason that it is to keep her company; after all, she is all alone in their cottage, no maids interrupting her every hour or so {no Butler to bring her tea while she works}, but he knows in truth it is _he_ that needs the company, her company.

He misses her, you see. It's as simple as that {as complicated, painful, impossible as that}.

She had surprised him, pulling him into her sitting room. With tired eyes, worn out smiles she told him she wished to retire, that the time had come and Mrs Molesley was as suitable a replacement as any and it should really happen now, before the woman moved away to another house, took her new husband with her. {They had just lost Thomas to London, he remembers and Mrs Patmore had retired the year before, moved to the farm with Mr Mason and Daisy.}

And so he had wished her well, turned away from the tears in her eyes, tried not to shake apart at the thought of not seeing her every day, of no more evenings sipping sherry by firelight, her hand beside his on the table, close enough to feel the heat of her skin, to stretch his little finger and brush hers.

And she had left {while he pretended she wasn't, while he helped Lady Mary adjust to the changes the way he had promised he would at Lady Rose's wedding, while he fought against the crumbling of the world around him}. She had smiled at him by the door, after the Family and servants had said their goodbyes and good wishes, had reached up for his cheek, there in the empty foyer and brushed his lip with her thumb.

"Visit me, Charles." She had said, eyes smiling. She rose up and he leaned down and she kissed him on the cheek, there in the House before she disappeared out the door. {He watched her leave, leaning against the wall, watched until he couldn't see her, then stayed and watched the empty path a little more.}

And so he visited her, through Summer and Spring, {he takes all the half days and full days allowed him now, he has something to do with them after all} and through Autumn and into Winter he brings her cake and pies, goes from the Mason's farm to her door carrying a pot of her favourite stew when he learns she has succumbed to a November chill {frets so much about her that Lady Mary orders him to visit her a week before he should, and he does, just to check on her, to heat up soup and make tea, to read to her when the fever keeps her half-awake all day}.

And then it is Christmas Eve and he has forgotten her gift back in his parlour.

She takes his coat and scarf with a laugh and shake of her head, sends him into the sitting room to warm his hands by the fire while she gets some tea {his gloves too are on his desk, resting atop her wrapped box} and he takes a moment to breathe deep.

Her scent surrounds him, the vanilla and lemon that has been a part of her for as long as he has known her. But now there is ginger and spice, fresh fir from the tree in the corner and the welcome smell of their dinner roasting in her oven.

His shoulders loosen, his pulse settles and as he folds himself into his usual chair he feels steady once again.

She returns with the tea, tells him the snow has started up again, that there's no doubt now they'll have a white Christmas. She smiles, her eyes sparkle and he has missed her. So much more this last week than the ones before. {There is no reason to it, she has been gone almost a year now, it no longer hurts so much to think of her. But this week he has missed her without realising it, has looked for her in the evenings and found Mrs Molesley instead.}

They eat dinner in her kitchen, she has decorated the table with a full service and he cannot find a single fault in the presentation. The beef is a little dry and the potatoes a little more crispy than they should be, but he eats a second helping of everything and asks to take some more back with him for tomorrow.

He makes moves to leave after the dishes are washed, the table tidied away, a plate of food wrapped in paper and placed on the little table by the door. Looks out of the window and cannot say that it is only the sight of the building snow that has him tell her he must go so reluctantly.

She offers him a glass of sherry, points to his present beneath the tree and tells him she won't have him leave before he opens his gift.

So he stays a little longer, sips at the drink {a retirement gift from His Lordship, Her Ladyship had given the picture that hangs over the fire, the one that he had told them she had always admired} and they talk of Mr and Mrs Bates, how she plans to visit them in the New Year, perhaps stay for a month or so and help with the baby; says that Mr Bates has asked her especially for that, that he thinks Anna would like it, that the baby should meet the closest thing to a grandmother it will have as soon as possible. He smiles, imagines her holding the newest member of the Bates family and feels a tug in his chest. He gulps the sherry and looks at the fire {she will be gone for the month, he knows, she has always regretted that she could not be there when little Elizabeth Bates was born. He will not see her and then a few months later it will be the Season and he will be away}.

She pulls him from his thoughts with a tap at his elbow, slides a box into his lap and smiles. "Merry Christmas, Mr Carson."

He opens the gift with tentative fingers, sees from the corner of his eye how she bites her lip. He has bought her a pair of gloves this year, that will match the coat she bought last month in Ripon. He wonders now if he ought to have got something different.

The paper unfolds and he feels his eyes widen as he opens the padded velvet box.

The watch is silver, the front engraved with swirls and lines that come together to form his initials in the centre. He turns it over in his hands and finds himself disappointed to find no words on the back. He looks up to thank her and she places a hand over his arm.

"Open it." She says, nods and her smile now is soft, tender.

"I really should go." He says instead, scared suddenly, made unsteady by her touch and her warmth, by the knowledge that he does not _want_ to leave, more even than he did not want _her_ to leave all those months ago.

"It's snowing and you won't be able to get back in this. I've made up the the guest room for you." Her fingers squeeze his arm, slip down to cover his, curl them around the watch. "Open the watch Charles."

He has denied her few things over the years, fewer still since she retired and so he presses the little button, watches the lid flip open and takes a deep breath before looking at the words written there, inside the top.

_time passes but my hand will always be yours to take. E.H._

"There'll be talk." He says eventually, fights the lump in his throat, the glaze to his eyes.

"There's always been talk. And it really is far too cold outside."

He brushes his thumb over the words one more time before snapping the watch closed, slips it inside his pocket, up near his heart. Turns his hand over in hers and lets their fingers fall together like puzzle pieces. {Mr Blake is back in the country, has been to the House more often of late, there is a sparkle in Lady Mary's eyes he has not seen the like of since Mister Matthew returned from the trenches. He thinks it would not matter anyway, the Abbey is no longer his home and he wants only to be _home_.}

Her eyes are so very blue in the low light, her smile careful but happy nonetheless.

"I suppose since you _have_ already made up the room, it would be poor manners to see your hard work go to waste."

Her eyes roll and he fights a laugh; giddy, excited.

"And we couldn't have that."

He looks down at their hands, trails his thumb along her fingers, stops where a ring should sit. "You meant the words." He doesn't really ask but she nods all the same. "And if I were to ask you?"

"Then you would already know my answer but I would say it anyway."

"Right."

He rubs just there beneath her knuckle, thinks of what it will mean when there is a band there. She squeezes his hand, tips his chin up with a finger at his jaw.

"But you'd best ask me quick if you want to come to the Bates' with me."

And so he does and seals her _yes_ with a kiss, to her lips this time and then much later as they part at her bedroom door, to her cheek.


End file.
